


oh, it's all gonna be alright

by hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao)



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: (galo isn't physically there but he sends a few texts), Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Lio Fotia Whump, Minor Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahkannao/pseuds/hanwritesstuff
Summary: “We’ve got your back, Boss. We always will,” Meis says. “We might not be able to make motorcycles out of fire like we used to, but we can give you a shoulder to cry on whenever you need it, no questions asked.”“And that’s a promise!” Gueira exclaims.“That’s a promise,” Meis repeats.
Relationships: Lio Fotia & Gueira & Meis
Comments: 18
Kudos: 127





	oh, it's all gonna be alright

There’s a distinct twinge of guilt in Lio’s stomach as he walks though the automatic double doors into the lobby of the Value Inn. It’s a small motel that blends in with the highway, barely inside the Promepolis city limits, and the lady at the front desk gives him a warm smile when he walks in, gesturing to the coffee station in the corner. He nods a “thanks, but no thanks” and heads for the stairs. 

The hotel’s being used as temporary Burnish housing, along with a few other hotels around the city, until the construction of semi-permanent housing is completed closer to downtown. The owner was happy to open his doors, even to a bunch of ex-Burnish refugees; his wife was Burnish, and the stipend he got from the government was much more than what he would have made waiting for tourists to flock to Promepolis at a time like this. And that’s not why Lio’s guilty.

Lio’s guilty because he’s not living here. Instead of being here and helping his people here, he’s been sleeping on Galo Thymos’ couch—and the bed, some nights, when he has a nightmare and Galo insists—in a cramped and messy but mostly nice apartment downtown, with a kitchen and extra blankets he doesn’t have to call down for. He feels bad bringing a change of clothes and a sleeping bag and staying the night, because he’s going to leave tomorrow when no one else has that luxury. 

But he got invited, and while Galo is one of the most selflessly kind people Lio’s ever met, there are some things he just won’t understand. 

“Hey, Boss!” Gueira opens the door to room 201 with a grin, pulling Lio into a hug as soon as he’s inside, and Lio thinks he might have broken a rib. “Perfect timing, we were just about to order dinner!”

“What kind of dinner?” Lio asks. 

“Whatever you want,” Meis says, hunched over his phone at the foot of the bed. “We haven’t decided yet.”

“They don’t deliver a ton out here, but there’s some good stuff.” Gueira sits down next to him and leans over his shoulder. “There’s pizza, sushi...”

“There’s barbecue,” Meis offers. “Delivers in thirty minutes.”

Gueira elbows him in the side. “Of course you want barbecue, yeehaw bastard.” 

“Do you not want barbecue?”

“No, I’m fine with barbecue.”

“I can do barbecue.” Lio sits down on Meis’ other side to get a look at the menu. It isn’t too expensive, which is always nice. 

“Can your boyfriend cook?” Gueira asks.

Lio blinks. “My what?”

“Your boyfriend,” Gueira repeats.

“...Are you talking about Galo?”

Gueira puts his head in his hands. “Oh my god, you’re dumber than he is.”

“There’s nothing... like that,” Lio says. “Sorry if you were expecting anything else.”

Meis pats Lio on the shoulder. “You’ll get there.” 

Lio just scowls. 

“Anyway, can he cook?” Gueira asks again. “I need to know if you’re in good hands.”

“He’s fine.” 

“Does he put ketchup in his mac and cheese?”

“We haven’t had mac and cheese yet, so I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s a good sign.”

“You can deal with what your boyfriend cooks for dinner tomorrow,” Meis cuts in. “I’m hungry, what are we getting?”

“I’ll get whatever you get, Mr. Barbecue Connoisseur.” Gueira grins again, resting his head on Meis’ shoulder. 

“All right.” Meis taps the screen twice. “Boss?”

“...I’m curious about the pulled pork quesadilla,” Lio says.

Meis raises an eyebrow. “That’s a gamble.”

“It’s one of the most popular things on their menu, people have to like it for a reason.” 

“Fair point.” Meis finishes entering the order. “There are microwave spring rolls in the freezer if you don’t like it.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s beer in the fridge, too,” Gueira adds. “Yours for the taking.”

Lio scoffs. “I’ve already stolen all of Galo’s beer, I can’t do that to you, too.”

“Come on, we insist!” Gueira exclaims. “We need all the fridge space we can get!”

“...All right, fine.” Lio stands up from the bed and walks over to the fridge, grabbing a beer can from the beverage chiller in the door. Just as Gueira said, the fridge is just about stuffed, and when he opens the freezer to see what the microwave spring rolls look like, he finds it totally full of TV dinners and frozen vegetables. 

Sitting back down on the bed again, he pops the can open and takes a swig. Not the best beer he’s ever had, but he can live with it. Anything else would be ungrateful, and that’s the last thing he wants to be. 

There’s a buzz somewhere below Lio before he realizes it’s his phone in his pocket, and he turns it on only to find a text from Galo waiting for him.

From: Galo Thymos  
7:31 PM  
Are you there yet? Let me know!

“Dammit,” Lio says, typing out a quick “yeah got here 5 mins ago” before he hits send and puts his phone on the dresser.

“What’s up?” Meis asks. 

“Galo asked me to text him when I got here.” Lio puts his phone in his pocket again. He doesn’t want it to be a distraction. “He said if anything went wrong with the bus, he’d give me a ride.” 

“You should’ve lied and said the bus was late,” Gueira says. “‘Cause let me tell ya, there is  _ nothing _ like riding a motorcycle with a hot guy—“ Meis elbows him in the side and he yelps. “What?! It’s true!”

Lio laughs at the way Meis’ cheeks turn a faint shade of pink, wondering what point Gueira would have made unchecked. They’re only a few years older than he is, but they knew each other for a long time before he showed up. They’ve surely done thousands of things he doesn’t even know about. 

He’s been laughing more lately. Only around them, because there’s still this feeling in the back of his mind that no one at Burning Rescue or in the fractured city government will take him seriously if he shows any sign of perceived weakness, but laughing nonetheless. It’s strange, though, not necessarily better, because before, they didn’t have any time for leisure or anything other than survival, and now they have more time than they know what to do with. Time to joke around, time to put their feet up and watch TV, time to live their lives again. 

But what lives do they have now that they’re not on the run? Meis and Gueira were teenagers when they became Burnish. They both ran away from home and didn’t look back, and now they’re thousands of miles away with no interest or incentive to go back. But at least they can remember what it was like, before. Lio was nine years old, and he barely remembers anything other than being Burnish, other than running away. What is he supposed to do now? How is he supposed to live a normal life when he has no idea what a normal life is? 

And it comes back around, as it always does, to the guilt starting to eat at him. Because at the end of the day, someone else deserves to be sharing Galo’s apartment, someone who can really appreciate it. He can survive anywhere, because that’s all he’s ever known; he isn’t special enough to warrant spoiling like that. 

“Whatcha thinking about, Boss?” Gueira asks, dragging Lio out of the rabbit hole he was about to fall into. “Seems pretty important.”

“It’s nothing,” Lio says. 

Meis puts his hand next to Lio’s on the bed, their pinkies barely touching. “If you have to say it’s nothing, it’s not nothing.”

There he goes again, knowing Lio better than Lio knows himself. 

“...After dinner.” Lio knows they won’t let him off the hook forever, but he can take some time to figure out what he wants to say. They’ll give him that. 

“Well, in that case, I’m gonna shower.” Gueira stands up before he looks back at Lio. “Unless you wanted it first.”

“I showered this morning, go ahead,” Lio says, taking another sip of beer as soon as he’s gone. 

“You look tired,” Meis points out. 

Lio gives him a look. Meis knows just how much work he’s been doing lately; he’s been there for most of it. Why is he surprised? “No shit.” 

“Seriously, have you been sleeping?” Meis asks. “Like, at all?” 

Lio shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes isn’t enough.” Meis scoots back and leans against the headboard, patting down the spot next to him. “Come sit,” he says. 

Lio turns around to stare at him and only sees him reaching over to grab the TV remote off the nightstand. He smiles, like he was expecting Lio to be suspicious, and Lio just rolls his eyes, sliding his boots off and moving back himself. “What?”

“Is Galo being a dick?” Meis asks. “Because I can go knock some sense into him—“

Lio gives him a look. “No, what the hell—“

“Does he snore or something?” Meis continues. “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?” 

So that’s it. “It’s not him,” Lio says. 

“That’s a relief.” Meis grins. “I thought I was gonna have to go beat him up.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Whatever you say, Boss.”

Lio just rolls his eyes. 

Meis doesn’t try to get anything else out of him, instead turning on the TV to an inoffensive sitcom about nothing in particular, which Lio’s more than thankful for. He’s never been one to watch the news, especially now; if he wants to know what’s going on, he’ll find it on his phone and on his own terms. And more often than not, he’s at the center of the news himself. He suspects Meis and Gueira are the same way. 

When Meis puts his arm around Lio’s shoulder, Lio rests his head on Meis’ shoulder in return, momentarily distracted by the TV, even though he has no idea what’s going on. He doesn’t know any of the characters’ names, or their personalities, or what they want, or even what the premise of the show is. He’s just thrown into season five, episode six or something with no context and no foothold. Or maybe he’s just projecting, or taking it too seriously, who knows?

He soon realizes that the show isn’t good enough to focus on very hard, and when Meis starts absentmindedly carding his fingers through his hair, he ignores it entirely and falls asleep more easily than he should. 

“Hey, Boss,” Meis says, some time later, and Lio’s eyes fly open in an instant, before Meis can even shake him awake. It’s a reflex, one Lio’s spent years honing.

“What time is it?” Lio asks, feeling his back cry out in pain as he sits up again. 

“Eight-ish,” Gueira says. His hair is still wet, and he’s holding a takeout container in his hands. Meis has another, and there’s a third sitting next to Gueira on the bed. “We would’ve let you keep sleeping, but the food got here and we figured you’d want it while it’s hot.”

“...Thanks.” Lio takes the box when Gueira holds it out to him and wonders how he could have slept through the delivery. He’s always been the lightest sleeper out of all of them, a trait that once served him well but now only works to his detriment.

The three of them eat together, but in comfortable silence. They’re not like Galo, who sees every meal as a chance to catch up with people, even if he’s been working with those same people all day, and talks through the whole thing. Lio thinks he can find a place in his heart for both. 

“Was it good?” Gueira asks when Lio scarfs down his quesadilla first.

Lio nods. If he ate the whole thing that quickly, it must have been. Or maybe he was just starving. “Better than expected.”

Gueira finishes second, Meis third, and neither of them leave any leftovers. They never do, even now that they have a fridge to store them in. Lio supposes it’s a force of habit, and that he’s the same way when it comes down to it.

“What do you guys think about calling it a night?” Gueira asks once all of their containers are sitting in the trash can.

Meis raises an eyebrow. “You’re never one to turn in early.”

“Yeah, well, I’m worn out,” Gueira says. “And so’s Boss, from the looks of it.”

He’s right, as much as Lio doesn’t want to admit it. 

“I wouldn’t be against it.” Meis looks to Lio. “Your call.”

Lio shrugs. “Sure.”

“Bathroom’s yours, then.”

“Thanks.” Lio stands up and takes the bag he packed for the night into the bathroom with him. It probably would have been more efficient to only take the few things he needs out of the bag—he really only needs his toothbrush, toothpaste, and pajamas—but taking the whole bag was easier, so that’s what he did. 

He’s done a little shopping in the past few weeks, mostly jackets and such to keep warm when the temperature starts to dip, but he doesn’t have his own pajamas yet. The ones he’s been wearing are hand-me-downs: the shirt is Galo’s, an old t-shirt that goes halfway down his thighs, and the pants are Aina’s, light blue with kittens on them. Which is fine by him, honestly, because he could never see himself wearing one of those matchy-matchy pajama sets.

When he comes out of the bathroom again, Meis and Gueira are sitting on the bed, both of them having changed into t-shirts and sweatpants of their own. It seems none of them are matchy-pajamas kind of people, whether by necessity or not. 

Lio takes the sleeping bag he brought and starts trying to wrestle it out of the bag. It’s something else he’s borrowed from Burning Rescue, and it’s nicer than any sleeping bag he’s ever used—

“Boss, what the hell are you doing?” Gueira asks. 

Lio frowns. “Rolling out my sleeping bag.”

“Sleeping bag?!” Gueira stares at him in disbelief. “Do you see how huge this bed is? Get up here!”

“You know you want to,” Meis teases. 

Except Lio does want to. He really does. 

He climbs up onto the bed just as Meis leaves for the bathroom, but he stays in the middle, saving Meis’ spot for when he comes back. And he feels no shame burrowing under the covers when Gueira pulls them back. 

“It’s getting chilly out there, huh,” Gueira says. Somehow, he has the self control not to immediately pull the covers up to his ears like Lio did. “They say there’s supposed to be a storm tonight.”

"Oh, god...” Lio mutters. He doesn’t want to wait in the pouring rain tomorrow morning for a bus he knows is going to be late. Maybe he should just swallow his pride and ask Galo to drive him back. Or maybe he could just... not leave.

“Was it raining when you got here?”

“Not yet,” Lio says. It was too dark outside to be able to tell if the clouds up above were rainclouds or not.

“That’s good.” Gueira looks out the window. “It’s supposed to come and go by morning, so you shouldn’t have to deal with it tomorrow. Knock on wood.” 

They’re coming up on their first winter without the Promare to protect them, and if the first signs of fall that have already started popping up are any indication, they’re in no position to handle it. They’re not used to the cold, not used to having to wear layers or sleep with more than one blanket or get soaked by the rain without armor to keep them dry. Not to mention they aren’t used to getting burned. They’ll survive, obviously, because they’ve survived worse, but it’ll be... different. Different and scary. 

“Gueira,” Meis says as he walks out of the bathroom. “Your turn.”

“Sweet.” Gueira hops out of bed and rushes to the bathroom like it’s a race, even though he’s racing nobody but himself. And who knows? Maybe it is. Maybe it’s a race against time so he can spend as much time under the blankets as he possibly can. Lio understands that.

Meis looks down at Lio, almost completely buried under the covers, and Lio can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “Is that cozy enough for you?”

Lio gives him a half-hearted glare. 

“I get it.” Meis crawls under the covers himself. “It’s fucking  _ freezing _ in here.”

“It’s fucking freezing everywhere,” Lio says. 

“Yeah, but especially in here.” Meis frowns. “I know heating is expensive, but would it kill them to turn up the thermostat a little?” 

Lio shrugs. “I guess it’s good practice. For when we have to stop ourselves from spending our life savings on heating bills.”

“I guess,” Meis agrees. “Is it this cold at Galo’s?”

Lio has to think on that for a second. “...No,” he says.

Meis gives him a look. “But?”

“But Galo has, like, fifty extra blankets.”

“That explains it.” Meis chuckles. “Lucky you.”

“I know.” Lio also knows at least a few of them were gifts from the rest of Burning Rescue when he moved in, even though Galo never mentioned it, and he would never admit it, but he appreciates the gesture. “I could probably bring some out here.”

“I already owe you my life, but that would be  _ amazing _ .”

Just as Gueira walks out of the bathroom again, Lio’s phone buzzes on the dresser, and Gueira’s the one who goes to check it. Lio doesn’t stop him, but when Gueira picks up the phone with a crafty smirk, he thinks that maybe he should have. “Galo says goodnight,” Gueira says, surprisingly ending his teasing there.

“Tell him goodnight back,” Lio says. He would say it himself, but he doesn’t want to move. 

“Will do.” Gueira types out a message back before he climbs into bed on Lio’s other side. “You mind being in the middle?”

Lio shakes his head. It’s warmer this way. 

“Good.” Gueira snuggles in a little closer and Lio doesn’t mind that, either. He feels safer with his generals—ex-generals now—close to him. Another habit left over from a life he no longer lives.

So many  _ habits _ , things he once needed for simple survival but doesn’t anymore, things he doesn’t know how to break. Things that won’t help anyone anymore, not in this new world they’ve found themselves in. 

“Boss.” Meis puts his hand on Lio’s shoulder. “You’re thinking again.”

“You can tell us anything,” Gueira adds. “You know that.”

Lio does. He knows that all too well, and he knows that there are some things that only the two people next to him can really understand, no matter how much Burning Rescue tries to. “...Do you two ever feel useless?”

No one responds for a moment, a moment that seems to last a lifetime, before Meis eventually asks, “Useless how?”

“Like...” Lio frowns. “Like the world’s moved on and it doesn’t need people like you anymore.”

“...You’re not talking about yourself, are you?” Gueira says, eyes wide. 

“Maybe I am.” Lio sighs. “I’m not a lawyer, I’m not a therapist, I’m not a politician, all I know how to do is fight and there’s no point in fighting right now.” He stares up at the ceiling. “There are so many people who could do a better job helping them now. I’m not their savior anymore.”

“Lio...” It’s the first time Meis has called him something other than “Boss” in months. “Please tell me you’re not giving up.”

“I’m not!” Lio exclaims. “I want to help, I do, but what if I make a mistake and it just makes things worse?”

“You weren’t scared of making mistakes before.”

“Because I was lighting fires before, and I knew how to do that!” Lio pulls the covers back up over his head and mutters, “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

And that’s the kicker, isn’t it? All the anxiety, all the guilt he’s felt since the Promare left all come back to him wanting to help his people but not knowing how to navigate the world he’s been dropped into, him wanting to live a normal life but not even being able to imagine what that would be like. With his flames, he could burn anything that stood in his way, but that isn’t true anymore. Now he can stumble and fall, and it  _ hurts _ . 

“Hey...” Gueira pushes the blankets back with a frown, reaching out to brush something off Lio’s cheek. “You’re crying, Boss.”

Lio blinks tears out of his eyes and, oh, he is crying, isn’t he? 

“C’mere.” Gueira pulls Lio in close to his chest and Lio surprisingly lets him. “It’s okay.”

_ But it’s not— _

“You’ve been holding this in for a while,” Meis says, wise beyond the four years he has on Lio. 

_ Of course Lio’s been holding it in for a while. What else is he supposed to do, let people know he’s weak?  _ His _ people, the people who look up to him as a symbol of hope? That’s simply not an option— _

“I know you want to be strong,” Meis continues. “But you can't keep that up forever. No one can.”

“You think Meis and I keep our spirits up 24/7?” Gueira adds, before quickly answering his own question: “Hell no, we’ve cried so much in this room, I’m surprised it hasn’t flooded.”

“Oh, yeah.” Meis chuckles. “We drown our sorrows in ice cream and shitty cable TV movies  _ at least _ once a week.”

“You know,” Gueira says, rubbing small circles into Lio’s back that almost make him drowsy. “I get not wanting to let everybody else down. But we aren’t gonna judge you for getting stressed sometimes. This is tough shit.”

“We’ve got your back, Boss. We always will,” Meis says. “We might not be able to make motorcycles out of fire like we used to, but we can give you a shoulder to cry on whenever you need it, no questions asked.”

“And that’s a promise!” Gueira exclaims.

“That’s a promise,” Meis repeats.

Something cracks in Lio’s chest, and the next second he’s overflowing, barely muffling a sob in the soft fabric of Gueira’s shirt. He starts to tremble as the tears keep coming too quickly for him to catch his breath, and they don’t stop, no matter how much he tries to hold himself together. 

He’s never cried like this before. He manages to keep the tears at bay most of the time, and when he isn’t, he can at least hold them back until he’s alone. And even then, he stays as silent as he possibly can, because if anyone hears him, they’ll know. They’ll know he’s not as strong as he says he is and start to lose hope, when hope is the only thing they can count on. 

But now, he cries like a child, loud and snotty and uncontrollable, because that’s what he is, isn’t he? A child who was forced to grow up too fast and now has to realize that he didn’t do it right.  _ Couldn’t _ do it right. He’s twenty-two but feels so much younger, doesn’t know where the hell he’s supposed to fit in now that what he thought was his life’s purpose has fizzled into thin air. 

He used to be strong; now he’s perhaps the weakest of them all. Not remembering his pre-Burnish life, not having anything to yearn for, worked in his favor when he was on the run because those conventions didn’t hold him back, but now everything has been turned upside down. Because people had jobs once upon a time, knew how to drive actual cars, had hopes and dreams. Even Gueira worked at Burger King for a few months before everything happened. Lio has none of that, just a gaping hole in his chest and a burning desire to help his people like he used to when he knows deep down that they’d be much better off just helping themselves.

“Hey, hey...” Gueira says again, his voice shaking like he’s about to cry himself. “We got you.”

They do. As alone as he feels, Lio knows they do. They’re not his generals anymore, but that hasn’t changed them, and he doesn’t deserve that, either. Doesn’t deserve their loyalty when he’s an empty shell of who he used to be, doesn’t deserve their kindness and generosity when he has no way of repaying it. But he also knows they won’t listen when he tells them so, because now that the war is over, they’re only the closest thing to a family he’s ever had. 

He doesn’t say a word, he just hugs Gueira tighter until the waves pass, doesn’t protest when Meis sandwiches him into a warmth that makes him think, for a split-second, that the Promare never left. The warmth brings him down, washes everything away until he’s left exhausted and run dry. 

“That better?” Meis asks, and Lio knows just from the tone of his voice that he’s done the same thing more recently than he’d like to admit.

Lio nods. “Yeah,” he says. He almost apologizes, but settles on a quiet “Thank you” instead.

Gueira laughs, breathy and dry in a way that makes Lio wonder how he didn’t notice how tired he sounded before. “Don’t mention it!” He lets go, just a little, turning his head. “Want a washcloth or something?”

“No, I’m fine.” Lio lets out a breath. “I just want to sleep.”

“I don’t blame you—” Gueira cuts himself off with a yawn, like just the mention of sleep reminded him how much he needed it. “I’m gonna get some z’s, too.”

“Same here.” Meis turns over to turn out the light. “If you’re up before ten, you’ve failed.”

“I sleep in later than you do!” Gueira counters.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Meis chuckles. “‘Night, Boss.”

Lio rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. Years of night watch have trained him to be up with the sun, he’s not exactly great at sleeping in. But these curtains are thick and he’s more tired than usual. Maybe he’ll surprise himself tomorrow.

“‘Night,” Gueira echoes. “Wake us up if you need anything.”

As Lio lets his eyes fall shut and starts to drift off, faster than he thought he would, he doubts that’ll be a problem.

**Author's Note:**

> i said my first fic of 2020 was going to have a title from don't cry 2020 by coin and it took until almost halfway through february but i kept my word
> 
> also sorry for kinda dying again? i thought this semester would be easy but it is. not. i have a ton of wips though and i'm starting a new multichap so hopefully i won't be as dead as i have been.
> 
> follow me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/matsuhannah) for promare soundtrack ramblings and constant meis thirstposts!


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